Haunting
by Uncle.Dragon
Summary: This is how Tsurara's ghost drove Rikuo to suicide. Tsurara OOC and some crossovers included. There is a Second Chapter?
1. Chapter 1

Rikuo stared out the window, gazing at the empty world through his black eyes. A desk was behind him, the chair turned towards him - he had been sitting there sometime earlier in the day. There was a letter on the table written in red ink – _blood _- and the handwriting was neat and precise. The envelope that had Rikuo's name written on the front was wrinkled and blemishes marred the whiteness of it, like it had been dropped and scratched multiple times. The paper that had been folded neatly inside was open, lying on the table and revealing that same red – _bloody _- handwriting. The sheet of paper itself was white, so clean, but if one looked closely at the words that were written, the red – _blood _- was slightly smeared, as if someone had placed their hand over it and rubbed.

The words 'I love you, waka-sama' were repeated over and over again on the cursed sheet, etched deep into the paper ever so creepily.

"So how was your day, waka-sama?" A voice asked from within the room. A body sat propped against the desk, pale hands stroking the expensive wood. Blue eyes stared directly at the man behind the desk. They were so beautiful, Rikuo reflected. Lovely black hair - silky to the touch, her mind whispered - reached from the woman's head to her waist, flowing down like water.

"You shouldn't be here, Tsurara." Rikuo answered, not even looking away from the window, watching as the sun continued to go further down. He hadn't heard the door open at all or any footsteps coming in. He was dressed in his usual yukata with Masamune strapped to his waist.

"Oh?" Tsurara gave a smile, tilting her head. Her hair shifted with the movement and there was a mischievous look in her eyes as she continued to stare at the quarter-Nurarihyon. "Why not?"

Rikuo didn't answer and remained quiet, still watching the outside scenery.

The girl sighed and then turned to the paper on the table. Her long fingers grabbed a corner of it and lifted it up into the air, her eyes trailing over the words. Chuckling, her hands traced over the words, smearing more of the red ink, before dropping it, letting the paper drift back to the table. Strangely, it landed in the exact same position it was in before. If one were examining the yukionna, they would see the palm of Tsurara's hands covered in red, darker at the tips of his fingers. "You got another message. How do you like it?"

"I don't." The taller man finally replied, still not budging from his spot. "Stop sending them."

"Aw…" Tsurara pouted, looking irresistibly cute, though if one looked closely, they would see her eyes narrowing. "Why not? I thought they were nice. You'll probably get another one tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. I'll keep sending them to you until the day you die, waka-sama."

There was a grunt from the other.

Grinning, the yukionna pulled away from the desk and went around it, settling into the empty leather chair. She spun around, making the chair squeak, before stopping. She faced the opposite direction of Rikuo, towards the front door. Slowly, she pointed to a certain drawer that had a lock on it, the only one. "You shouldn't play with me. I know you keep each one and seal them up in here." Tsurara tapped the drawer, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "How many do you have? Thirty-two or was it sixty-seven? I tend to lose count now days."

"It's been forty-eight days."

Tsurara adopted a tone of surprise when she next spoke but Rikuo knew better; she was faking it. "Ah? Really now? I really _did_ lose count. But look, you've been keeping up with the numbers. You'll tell me each day I visit you, right?"

Rikuo sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"No. Until the day you die, you're stuck with me and I will repeat the words each and every time I come to visit." Tsurara smiled and spun around again, giggling as she did so.

At long last, the taller man turned to eye the girl, watching carefully. He could see his chair spinning and the person that was in his seat. He released another grunt. His shadow was stretched across the floor, the light still fading in the background. "What do you _want_? And stop pestering me every day."

"No can do. I'm stuck; trapped, one could say. I wonder why?" There was a sick smile on Tsurara's light red – _bloody _- lips as she peered up into his black eyes.

"It's not my fault." It was a response that he had repeated for the last forty-eight days; the same conversation, the same words. However, each time, it diverged a little from the time before. It made him think that this might really be reality, but when Rikuo stared at Tsurara, at the person he loved so dearly from the depths of his heart, he _couldn't_ believe it. It was _impossible_.

The yukionna tilted her head further back and touched a spot on her own chest. Tsurara flinched at that spot but persisted in pushing one slim finger into the silt that had existed there since forty-eight days ago. It was right in the middle of his chest, right above his heart. No blood had spilled, nothing came out, and when Tsurara pulled her finger back, blue colored eyes peered curiously at the cleanliness of it. There was still some pain lingering from the wound, although it was nothing serious. "But it is. You were the one that pushed that sword in, after all."

"It was… an accident…" Rikuo whispered those words to himself, repeating it like a mantra, as if it would make everything better. But it didn't, it only made what had happened, what he had done, all the more real to himself. He could hear the cry of pain that still echoed hauntingly in his mind. There had been a deep dark red spilling out of the body before him, covering him and his hands with the death he had caused. The quarter-Nurarihyon's face twisted angrily as he screamed out to the world. "It was an accident, dammit! Leave me the fuck alone! Go away, Tsurara!"

"But I can't. I have to stay until I take you with me." Tsurara's face was neutral. She folded her legs beneath her, having stopped spinning long ago. Her hands were placed on top of her exposed legs and she peered at the man; her eyes were looking into Rikuo's soul, seeing everything that was hidden inside, all the emotions that were bubbling uncontrollably.

Those words made Rikuo pause. He eyed the girl carefully before backing up against the glass window, pressing himself against it. Slowly, Tsurara got up and strolled over until she stood right in front of Rikuo. She was short, only coming up to the man's chest. The girl smiled once more before reaching upward to undress Rikuo's clothing and opening it up to reveal a pair of guns inside and fully loaded. Immediately, the taller man grabbed those pale hands, cold to the touch, stopping Tsurara from continuing whatever she was going to do.

Another smile appeared on Tsurara's lips and she stared at the hands that were wrapped around her own. "Am I cold to the touch? Or are my hands warm?"

Rikuo squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to cut off his vision. "Cold…"

"I see… Well, that's too bad. I blame you for making me like this." Tsurara got onto her tippy toes to give a kiss onto Rikuo's lips. It was a soft peck, meant to comfort.

Rikuo released one of the hands to reach up to touch his lips. As he pulled back, he saw a little bit of blood on his fingertips.

Tsurara blinked and then chuckled. "Ah, my bad." Her free hand roamed over the body in front of her, well aware of the hiss she got from above. She slowly trailed over each of Rikuo's ribs and his collarbone beneath the robe, hearing a muffled groan from the man as she did so, before she finally stopped upon reaching the left gun. Her white fingers wrapped around the end of the gun and pulled it out. Rikuo stared as if mesmerized, unable to get his body to respond, until, at last, he managed to grab that same hand.

"What are you doing?" he huffed, glaring darkly. It didn't affect Tsurara at all; no, the other was far too used to such a thing for it to be effective.

Large eyes peered upward and blinked. She spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why, helping you, of course." she moved the gun easily, even with Rikuo's hand on it, so that it was pointing directly at his skull. The end was digging into the spot right above his left ear and it was painful and cold. Still, he didn't sweat or flinch at the sudden change of position, not at the barrel of the gun pointing at his brain, one tug away from blowing it out. "As per usual, you always have your guns fully loaded. I wonder if this will be the last time you'll ever be handling one."

"Tsurara… Stop…" Rikuo could feel Tsurara pressing down on the trigger. "Look, Tsurara, I really do love you so please just stop."

"Stop what?" This made the smaller yukionna look confused before she smiled brightly. "_I'm not the one with the finger on the trigger_."

Rikuo blinked and couldn't help but glance over from the corner of his eyes to peer at the gun. Tsurara's hand was resting on his arm, holding it up, but _his_ hand was the one that was holding the gun, _his_ finger was the one tugging at the trigger. Suddenly, Rikuo found himself laughing. To think that this would happen to him of all people - it was finally happening; he was finally starting to go insane. He noticed that Tsurara had continued to watch him. He then sighed in defeat – it was already too late for him; there was no way he could back out of this anymore. It was over, he had lost to the person he loved. And that was how this was going to end, how _he_ was going to end. "Alright, you _win_."

The once dark eyes brightened up greatly and Rikuo couldn't help but release a soft caring smile. There was the Tsurara he loved and knew the best. She was back. "R-Really?"

"Yes. I surrender to you. I shall give up on winning our argument." The quarter-Nurarihyon softened his black eyes and chuckled at the happy look Tsurara was giving him. With the gun still against his head, he leaned over to press his lips against his lover's, well aware that his were getting dyed with blood. The coldness of Tsurara's lips was harsh against his warm skin, but strangely nice. As he stared into Tsurara's large eyes, he closed his own. "I guess… I'll be going with you after all."

Tsurara wrapped her arms around Rikuo's waist, hugging him tightly. "Yay! Now I won't be alone anymore!"

"I didn't mean to leave you alone, you know."

"I know. Waka-sama."

Rikuo smiled, retracting a little so that he could put some distance between their bodies, and pulled the trigger.

A quieted bang echoed across the room and then a 'thump'.

Tsurara stood in her spot, still smiling, staring at Rikuo's motionless corpse. The gun was still smoking in Rikuo's hand though the lifeless grip was now loose. She wandered around the body, watching as blood oozed out of the skull, staining the beautiful Indonesian carpets below. Some of that liquid was trailing down the glass window, filtering a crimson light into the room. Carefully, her fingers reached into Rikuo's sleeve to pull out a key. She held it up, the orange sun lighting the metal and causing a reflected glow to bounce around the room.

Smirking, she stood up and made her way over to the desk, putting the letter into the envelope neatly so that it looked like it had not been opened before. Before doing so, she placed a final kiss on the bloody words and ran her tongue over the seal. She then went towards the drawer she had pointed out earlier, unlocking it with the key, and pulling it open. Peering inside, she eyed the multiple envelopes, all with Rikuo's name written neatly on top in scarlet ink, and smiled. Placing the forty-eighth one inside, she patted the top of the pile and eventually shut the drawer, locking everything back up. Still holding the key, she spun it around her fingers, well aware that they were now covered and dripping with blood.

She suddenly dropped the key into the pool of blood, hearing it splatter, droplets of blood splashing everywhere. Some managed to land on Rikuo's pale face and she leaned down to plant a loving kiss on those slowly cooling lips. "I'll see you later. Waka-sama, and, before long, we'll finally be together." Her fingers pushed back a couple of bangs, the fedora on the floor, and smiled softly once more. "I love you, Rikuo, forever and always."

Then Tsurara was gone.

* * *

Zen sighed, his cigarette burning before his lips but not being able to find it in himself to take a breath of the smoke. He stared down at the coffin that held Rikuo's dead corpse and sighed, again. Aotabou stood beside him, looking as glum and depressed as everyone else.

"To think he would kill himself…" The demon spoke softly, eyes closed tightly. "I guess he still felt guilty about the incident and couldn't handle it anymore."

"Yeah." Zen nodded to that and glanced around the funeral. Many faces were familiar to him but he didn't bother going near them, keeping to himself. "I don't really blame him though. I mean, he _killed_ his own lover, Tsurara, to get rid of Daemon Spade."

"Yeah…" Aotabou could only repeat under his breath. There was some crying and screaming around them but it went ignored. "Think of the irony: he marries Tsurara only to kill her to get rid of a pesky ghost before consummating. How heartbroken Rikuo must have felt."

There came the sound of some footsteps and then a voice called out to them, but they hardly registered it. Then there was someone tugging on their sleeves, catching their attention. The two guardians peered at Aegis Devlort, who was carrying a large bag. He looked out of breath and somewhat frightened. "Hey, guys, Rio and I found something in Rikuo's drawer. The one he always kept locked." He motioned to the bag and upended its contents onto the ground, a distance away from the crowd of people. Some people peered at them curiously since the guardians were still in sight, others ignored them. A couple of the other guardians gathered around the pile of envelopes that had fallen from the bag; even Li Hong Lee reached down to open one.

"This is Rikuo's handwriting alright." Li Hong stared at the cover and glanced at the documents in Zen, Aotabou and Aegis's hands respectively. "These are all in Tsurara's handwriting. But how? I mean Tsurara has been dead for over a month and a half. Were these written before she died?"

"Nope, I don't think so." Zen whispered as he eyed one of the letters, reading the first few crimson lines. "These look like they were written after his death, if that's even _possible_… It's says right here 'It's a pity that I died before you. I always thought it was going to be you first, what a laughable situation, but I'm okay with that. I'll still love you forever and always'." The bird youkai couldn't get himself to laugh, glued to the papers.

Aotabou nodded to that and lifted the one he was currently holding up higher. "Here's another one – 'It's sad that I'm still around after dying, stranger that I can still write these to you. How funny. You'll have to excuse the blood - it was the only thing that would appear on the paper. There wasn't much I could do'. This is weird." The youkai stared at the words as if they were going to come to life and eat him. It was so odd, the way that these letters sounded so much like Tsurara and yet, at the same time, didn't.

"Yeah, there are even numbers written on them, ending at forty-eight." Aegis shivered, not liking this at all. They were creepy and as the number got higher, the words became different and more twisted. He was currently staring at the last one, the words 'I love you, Rikuo' being the only thing on the entire letter, repeated over and over from the start to the finish.

"That's extremely weird! Didn't Rikuo die forty-eight hours after Tsurara's death! By seppuku?" Natokozo suddenly announced.

A silence fell over them, each looking at one another. A dark shiver ran down their spines, none of them liking how this was going. Eventually, Li Hong reached down to gather all the papers into a small pile. Everyone watched her quietly, wondering what the chinese zombie was going to do next. The Chinese girl pulled out a lighter and burnt her fingertip to call out her flame spirits, and slowly set everything ablaze, then Zen tossed his cigarette on top of the pile. "These were from the boss to Tsurara, we have no right to look at them. Let those two rest in peace now, perhaps the boss will able to pass onto the afterlife at long last."

No one made a retort to that, eyes watching as the white and red papers turned into ashes. Smoke floated upwards into the sky, the flames reflected in their eyes as they sat there outside the funeral home.

Going unnoticed by the crowd, two blurry forms stood beside a stained-glass window, a small smile on their lips.

There came the sound of two faint chuckles before they faded out of existence.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Rikuo-sama."_

"_Yes?"_

"_I have been your follower for a long time…and you taught me everything I needed to learn… but…"_

"_But?"_

"…_but…there is—there is something else I have always wanted to know."_

"_What?"_

"_I want to… I want to know how to make love to you."_

Sounds were coming closer. He didn't mind. His eyes were closed and there was no way he could nudge them open. But someone was calling to him. It was no more than a faint whisper but he was sure there was.

"Ri-Rikuo... sama..."

He didn't move. He couldn't even if he wanted to. Tubes were inserted in almost every part of his body, pumping air onto his lungs and warmth to his almost-frozen body and fluids and substances that were supposed to keep him alive. Alive. Lying in this wretched bed alone in the world, condemned to be alive. Death would have been a more pleasant alternative. At least to him.

_Was it really?_

Of course it was. Pray tell, what else was he to do? He didn't want to waste her time all over again waiting for something he knew would never come true. He couldn't be, shouldn't be, waiting. He had been waiting for how many years already and all that was given her was but another set of empty promises fated to be unfulfilled forever. A person in his sane mind would immediately realize the nullity of such, and yet, as though his keen reason had snapped, as though he weren't the world's strongest Youkai gifted with the ability to steal countless lives without batting an eyelid, he believed those promises, cherished them, clung to them, as if they were already attached to the core of his being from the time he was born, the reason of his existence.

"Rikuo."

Sounds were coming closer. Footsteps, glasses clicking, merry laughter and the sound of violins.

He was tired. A cheerful atmosphere filled the hall and the faces gracing the celebration were mostly familiar but he didn't have the heart to talk to anyone save for turning down Yomi, his sister in-law's offer of sake. The soft waltz played by the mini orchestra seemed to be a lullaby humming him to sleep and he had almost considered taking a nap in his chair if not for the hand gently touching his shoulder.

"Rikuo-sama." It was her, Tsurara Oikawa the Yuki-onna, the newly honored leader of her very own clan who officially received her title just an hour ago. She still wore that familiar gentle expression on her face and her eyes bespoke concern…and something else even her young master couldn't figure out.

He lifted his face and stared back. "Yeah?" Their eyes met.

His former servant seemed flustered for a moment, as though she had forgotten his original intent. "I-I…no, I mean, everybody was looking for you a-and…"

"And?" he said, almost chuckling, urging the young lady to go on.

"E-eh? A-and, well…yeah. Y- Yomi-sama too and... a-and... yeah."

"I could see you're still uneasy." He tossed his empty drinking dish aside and walked away.

"Can't be helped," said the young Yuki-onna running after him. "I'm just…not used to it. Seeing you like that." _Was that a blush? And the other one a sigh?_ Rikuo thought in his mind, "Really. I should have chosen to stay your vassal forever. It would have suited you better."

His eyebrows quirked in reaction, fingers reflexively pulling Muramasa from its sheath and pointed the blade to Tsurara's throat.

Tsurara's hands went up in the air immediately, as if she were some burglar caught in the act. "I'm sorry already! I won't say anything anymore!"

He smirked, sliding Muramasa back to its sheath. They were silent for a moment, walking endlessly, wordlessly, around the decorated chamber. The guardians and the members of the Nura Clan and its associates were obviously enjoying the night, either drinking or chatting or waltzing on the dance floor, except Yomi's right hand man, Rob Lucci, who had been viciously eyeing every suspicious person sticking around the mansion. But Rikuo wasn't someone suspicious, thus escaping the former CP9 agent's glare. And so, they walked on. The silence between them was eerie yet there was no room for discomfort and Tsurara's prior uneasiness had miraculously evaporated.

"Say," said Tsurara all of a sudden. "Adonis was foolish, wasn't he?"

"What makes you say so?" the quarter-Nurarihyon asked back, realizing they had just stopped in front of a statue sculpted by Deidara, an almost perfect copy of Venus, the Roman goddess of love.

"How could he refuse the goddess of love herself? Had he done otherwise, they could have been happy forever."

The former smirk became a quasi-chuckle. "Even if he had done otherwise, his fate would remain tragic. She was a goddess; he was no more than a mere mortal."

"You're right," replied the Yuki-onna, and even if it was faint, Rikuo could hear a tinge of sadness in that gentle voice. "But maybe…maybe if he had just said yes, maybe he could have been happy even if it were but for a moment."

His brows quirked for a second time and his lips involuntarily smiled. What could have brought this topic on, he didn't know. Maybe it was the statue. "Adonis never cared about her. It was Venus' fault for jumping on him. She had no goddess pride at all."

The formerly forlorn aura was torn apart by a reproachful look and a protest. "Oi, Rikuo-sama! You really are so…"

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever." Rikuo just walked away nonchalantly, leaving Tsurara behind to sulk.

Tsurara sighed helplessly and complained, "Mother is right, men do change when they get older..."

"Rikuo. Are you leaving?"

Leaves were falling, dry and dead, almost crumpled, blown away by the autumn wind, whirling around as they fell down, down, down.

"Yes," he simply replied not looking back. He needed to escape. He hated showing any signs of cowardice yet he had to run away as far as he could; he couldn't be too picky, he simply had no other options to choose from.

"I see. Be well."

_I will never come back._

He did his best for weeks already. Did his best ignoring those glances, those stares which seemed to undress him every time sending goosebumps on his skin. Did his best pretending not to understand the hidden meaning behind those gifts, of those flowers. He did his best and it hadn't been an easy task. And when it had gone too far, when it had been too obvious for him to pretend not to notice, for the sake of the Nura clan, for the sake of his precious vassal's reputation and for the sake of his own dignity, he chose to run away.

_I will never come back._

And yet when the summons came, he couldn't refuse.

"The Tsurara Clan needs you. We need your opinion concerning delicate matters."

"The leader of the Clan is there. Couldn't he formulate decisions on his own?"

"Tsurara-sama is still too young and you know that our rival families might use her lack of experience to take advantage of both the Tsurara Clan and Nura Clan. No other person could provide the boss the guidance she needs. She needs you."

He closed his eyes. He couldn't say no. He could only sigh in despair. He needed to escape because Tsurara might just persuade him and he might just be carried away and say yes.

"_It was Venus' fault…she had no goddess pride at all."_

"I have been your servant for a long time…and you taught me everything I needed to learn…but…"

"But?"

"There is…there is something I have always wanted to know…"

"What is it?"

"I want to…I want to know…how to make love to you."

A warm finger touched his cheek gently. He closed his eyes. He couldn't say no.

There were flowers in his palms, fingers on his wrists, that familiar fluff of hair, that scent, that head lying face downwards, warm breathing on his neck, lips touching his collarbone. He wanted to open his eyes but the sunlight coming from the window was just too bright. He must have forgotten to close the blinds again. He moved a little. The young woman on top of him stirred, waking up, and whispered, "Dear Venus, are you awake?"

His face turned sour, disgusted at being called by such name. "Stop calling me that. And yes, I'm awake so get moving before I kill you."

It had been like this for a long time and nobody in both Clans noticed anything odd between them. Nobody knew of the promises they made, of the happiness they shared within the confinements of this little room; Rikuo's room. After all, would there be anything wrong with a male master sharing a room with his female vassal? Unless someone got it all figured out and is only keeping quiet about it.

He got up, dragging the blanket along with him, and went to lie on his hammock. He closed his eyes and sighed. He had lost his mind already and he wanted to keep his cool at least.

"_For the sake of your Clan, have some shame. I already let you do what you wanted to do with me. Wasn't it enough, for you?"_

"_So...does it...does it mean you just…forced yourself?"_

_"...No, I..."_

_"Do you love me?"_

"…_Of course I do…"_

"_If you do, why won't you just trust me? You know that I'm ready to leave everything for you. Why don't we just tell them everything about us?"_

"I want to marry you."

"You already know you can't. You are my niece after all, Yomi's kid."

There were those tears again falling from those yellow eyes and he couldn't help but kiss them away.

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault, isn't it, dragging you into this? I'm sorry. But I promise, I will stay with you even if I die. I know there will come a time when I can just marry you without minding what other people would say."

He almost laughed, bitterly that is, at such foolish vow. But she believed.

An invitation was given to her.

Yomi looked surprised. "Ara ara, I already know about you and Tsurara being fuck-buddies already, maybe I just forgot everything about it. Thank you for reminding me."

Yomi then gulped her share of sweet sake, then continued.

"At last, you decided to tie the knot, eh. Please take care of my daughter. And congratulations~!"

_Then, at the Final Valley..._

_The feud between Rikuo and Tsunayoshi Sawada drew to an end, with Tsunayoshi emerging as the winner; Rikuo defeated and battered to the point of being half dead, Muramasa is destroyed by Axle burner, the age of the Nura Clan came to an untimely end._

_Rikou Nura is now in his deathbed, he can move, but only with a burst of his remaining Chakra, he use up those Chakra, he will really die._

Sounds were coming closer. Tears were in his eyes. There was that voice calling him.

"Rikuo-sama. Are you awake?"

'Yes.'

"Dear Venus, do you still remember what I promised you?"

'Of course I do. How can't I? And stop calling me that. It pisses me off.'

Tsurara giggled, Rikuo opened his eyes, Tsurara was wearing a Kimono similar to the one she wears everyday, but today was different, it was more of a traditional white Kimono that Japanese women wear on their wedding.

Rikuo just snorts, as he reached his hand out, a storm of lily petals blew in his face...

Kubinashi was startled by the commotion outside. There were rings in his eyes and his nerves were too frayed to be disturbed. But he walked nevertheless till he heard something disturbing.

"Tsurara is gone!"

He frowned. Such foolishness. He couldn't blame the person yelling such absurdity though. The Clan and the Youkais of Eastern Japan had been very reliant upon their head and everyone couldn't just imagine Rikuo gone. But there was no running away from the truth. Tsurara was dead, blown up to pieces by Hayato Gokudera, in the game of Choice held in Karakura town. And since his defeat at the hands of Tsunayoshi, Rikuo suffered a nervous breakdown and was confined in the Nura mansion, barely alive and in a comatose state.

"Kubinashi-sama, Tsurara's body is gone from the graveyard!"

He frowned all the more, running towards the coffin where the broken pieces of Tsurara was supposed to lie. And his mouth opened in shock when he actually found it empty, his feet stepping backwards as he saw footsteps on the floor, white lilies scattering all around. His phone rang. He answered the call, still in a daze.

"Rikuo is gone!" It was Tobi, who had been stationed where their leader was confined. Kubinashi could hear his comrade panting and he could hear sounds, other voices, besides the ninja's.

'Didn't you notice anything Tobi?'

'There was nothing in there Deidara-senpai! We looked for evidence already!'

'It must have been those Vonogla Bastards taking advantage of Rikuo-sama.'

'But still, how couldn't there be a proof of the kidnapping? Are you trying to tell us he just disappeared Sasori-danna?'

'Look. There were footsteps all over. And these white flowers!'

The masked ninja froze. Footsteps? Flowers? Just then, there was the sound of violins, as though coming from a performing orchestra. "S-S-Senpai…"

"What?"

"I think I know where they are..."

Everybody was startled. What could have happened? What could have happened?

They found themselves following the music towards that lonely hall. And before them, there were the white curtains, white flowers, wineglasses and tables as if there had been a wedding. Above the piano was a music box playing endlessly and beside it was the statue of Venus torn into pieces.

"What in the world is this..?" whispered Sasori.

"Argh! My Venus! My finest work! NO!" Deidara cried in despair.

For there on the floor filled with fresh lilies was Tsurara, whose body somehow glued back together, and Rikuo, locked in a tender embrace.

Sasori smacked Deidara in the face for ruining the moment as he kept howling for his statue.


End file.
